from the asylum to the rift
by SIR OWL
Summary: is wont be continued ... if you like this little part I'm really sorry. 2.If you like the writing style you should know I have not written this story ... I could never write so good so all the credit goes to "insert actual writer" 3. if you want more soooooo badly that you can't live without more I could try to convince the writer to write more
1. Chapter1

I am glad to know that most humans on this planet will never know of the great terrors that lurk far away outside our dimensions and reach.

At least they will be oblivious to their existence merely moments before it is all too late.

I dread to think about the possibility of the world completely colliding with the rift, time will be no more, atoms will be ripped apart, humanity will perish and whatever hideous and ungodly creature will survive the apocalypse will turn the resulting chaos into the greatest horror that ever existed or will exist.

Maybe I have already gone mad with the knowledge that no species on our beloved earth was meant to posses but I doubt that even madness could create visions more abhorrent than the ones fluttering before my eyes at every moment.

If humanity is lucky or good or faithful enough, at this point I do not know what will or will not work, we may have a chance of slowing even if not halting our impending demise.

I pray that the knowledge I have acquired over the past days (Or was it hours? Years maybe.) holds the key to prolonging what little time we have left therefore I implore whoever finds this to make sense of what is to me incomprehensible. My mental state has too much delayed with the pictures and visions clogging my mind to the point where a mere thought requires the utmost of discipline to hold for more than seconds in my mind before it is over-flooded with what I dare not put in words, if that is even possible.

The assumption that this report has made it through the vast ocean of dimensions to a capable human being is very presumptuous indeed, it is however the only thought making me cling to what is left of my sanity.

What I have been able to make out in my ocean of forbidden knowledge it that no being, however sentient, shall be allowed to enter the rift lest it further weakens the bonds that I so foolishly ripped apart in my naive sense of discovery.

The world, if you could even call it that, lying beyond the border, is not a place any human may survive in, neither my potions, that I brought with me, nor my spells pose a permanent resistance to the Atmosphere that surrounded me since I arrived here. Worse even, no possible path to return, at least not in a human state, has opened itself to me. There have been propositions, all including an uncomfortable degree of alterations to my body and mind, which I understandably all declined.

Going mad is not the preferred end which I envisioned for myself, despite that it is at the eleventh hour better than literally losing my mind.

But even in these dire circumstances the smallest cinder of hope manages to kindle. At least the enchantments I made to my estate during research, will keep out any possible unlucky sods foraging for something in an old manor deep in the woods far from any village or known road.

For any, adept enough in magic, who break through my defences shall encounter the remains of my ritual and if they are unfortunate enough encounter beings from this side. The worst possibility and I shutter at the thought of it, they discover my notes and look into my research. Not only would it uncover the dark scriptures that I consulted but the spells as spoken aloud by an unknowing could rip them apart together with the whole manor, though it would be possibly the best thing to do. Blow the whole place that was tainted by my presence, to hell. For hell is where I would much rather be.


	2. Chapter 2

I still remember the event that would lead me down the path of fate with no going back.

When I was still in school, my teachers regularly complained about my short attention span, coupled with nervous behaviour and constant movement. Juxtaposing this is that I was praised by the same teachers for being able to solve problems, that did not require a long amount of work, better than anyone else. I wish that would have been enough to satisfy them but alas, a letter was sent, after a good amount of prodding from my tutor, to my parents that they should see to it, that I would not just stop working on an assignment and do something else. Suggested was a doctors visit, to receive medical treatment and stop disrupting the classroom.

My parents however weren't the wealthiest and would not be able to afford constant cost of medicine and needed to find another possible treatment. Therefore we tried consulting the highly esteemed professor W. E. Clemmons. With a degree in psychology from the most respected university in the country and multiple papers regarding the treatment of mental disorders without the use of traditional methods, he was not only a juggernaut in his field but also known to not charge for the first round of treatment as he was almost constantly trying new methods for which he needed volunteers. And since his facility was near our town we got the appointment made.

As you would enter the "Sanitarium for mental rehabilitation" you would be able to make out, what for the professor must have been his life work. From the patients that where present in the entrance area, none looked like they were dangerous or seriously ill. A middle aged man sat at a window looking outside with a blank stare. As my parents walked up to the reception, I decided to walk over to him and find out something about the professor. He noticed me as I was coming closer and his face lit up a little bit. "Hey there" he said. Even though he did not look the part his voice sounded raspy and underused, as if he just had a terrible illness but was on his way to recovery.

I responded to his greeting and asked what he thinks about the facility and how the professor is as a person, since I deemed it untactful to directly ask why he was here. "Well, I could tell you a lot about this hospital but... you see... you won't be here long. I can tell just by looking at you. You are not the type of person the professor would keep here for long. Look around and tell me what all the people here have in common." I did as he said and looked around. A person in a corner had his eyes fixed to the floor, his shoulder hanging low. A man and a woman chatted on a sofa, I could not make out the face of the woman since she sat away from me, the man however moved his eyes franticly as if to spot potential threats. I turned to my opposite and answered: "they all look sad or threatened." he smiled "You got good eyes kid. We are... or were all too depressed to live."

Surprised by his choice of words I did not say anything. He continued "I've been here for a few weeks and look at me, I can speak freely about my past. With a stranger no less. Clemmons..." he spoke the name with all of the respect and pride he could muster "...he taught me that there is no shame in what I felt, that I wasn't weak because of it."

At this point my parents waved me over to them since everything was apparently cleared up. I quickly excused myself and said goodbye.

The receptionist was currently talking to my father: "The professor will see him in his office, just around the corner, up the stairs and through to the end of the hallway." adding with a smile "I hope he will be able to help."


	3. Chapter 3

As we approached the wooden door at the end of the hallway, that contained a few empty chairs, I got the kind of feeling that uncertainty brings, you don't know if you can dare to hope that you might get better and what that would mean for your future. However as soon as the door swung open to reveal the room behind, my doubts were washed away by a sense of wonder. Large bookshelves as high as the room itself filled to the brim with all kinds of books. Immediately I felt the need to take a book out and discover the contents. The floor, like the door, was dark and wooden with the exception of a part in front of a crinkling fireplace where the wood was replaced by stone. In front of the fireplace stood

At the end of the room, in front of two big windows revealing the lake behind the facility, stood a desk with many papers on it, behind the desk, Professor Clemmons.

He was a man of medium hight with little or at least fading short hair, a beard that went along the bottom of his chin up to his ears and small rimmed glasses that he adjusted as we stepped closer to his desk.

He welcomed us and especially me with a deep and brimming voice that entered through you ears and stayed in your head like the sound of a motor, slowly lulling you to sleep.

"And you... must be... the... patient." The Words came very slow out of his mouth as if he took his time to create and form every word individually. It took me a moment to snap out of my trance induced by his voice and the fire burning and crinkling.

I nodded and the professors face lit up as he began to smile. Then he addressed my parents, asking them if he could have a moment alone with me, since it is vital for a diagnosis to be able to let the patient talk freely with his doctor, of course only if I agreed to this.

They looked at me and even though I was unsure and did not know what would await me, I, again, nodded.

After they left the room the professor inspected me over the top of his glasses, I imagine he was not only aware of my condition but also wanted to confirm what he heard. He just sat still, his eyes fixed on me as I began to feel shaky, not from his gaze but also from the urge to get something into my hands, give them something to do.

The professor looked approvingly "Yes... just... like I thought. Feel free... to do what you... want."

I instantly stood up and looked for something to do. On the table stood one of those desk-toys, Newton's cradle I think they are called, for the moment it was completely still, which bothered me.

I was just about to put the thing into motion when my attention shifted again. This time I was drawn to one of the bookshelves. Without a second thought I took a book out.

It was big and heavy, bound in leather and did not have a title on the front. As I opened it I was surprised that the inside was not written in any language that I knew of. To be precise the characters

seemed like they were abstract representations of people.

Searching for pictures I flipped through the pages, there were none. So I closed the book again, put it were it stood before and took another one.

This time I had more luck "Middle and eastern European folklore" it read "A collection of tales from before the crusades". That sounded interesting enough to keep my mind occupied, even contained detailed drawings of the monsters and otherworldly creatures that people believed in.

With the book in hand I strolled over to one of the big armchairs in front of the fire, sat down and started to read, almost not noticing the professor lifting himself out of his chair and going over to the shelf were the book stood and apparently inspecting the dust that had settled.

Then he turned his attention over to me. After a few minutes, in which his expression became more and more puzzled, he cleared his throat and sat himself opposite me on the other chair with a very satisfied look.

I knew he probably wanted to say something but I was too invested in a tale with an unsettlingly detailed description of so called strigoi, to give him my attention just yet. Though his words did reach my ears: "Did you know... that your hands... have been calm... since you sat down?" just like before I needed a moment before I snapped out of my trance.

I stammered "I beg your pardon?" "You... have not been able... to keep... your hands still since you came in here,... turning your thumbs,... kneading your hands and... the like." this was no surprise to me I often have been told that I make people nervous with my constant movements, other kids were

not as shaky as I was that was the whole reason we came to the professor.

But he had also stated that they were calm now. Not knowing what to answer, I just looked at my hands. Indeed they were not moving a bit with the book in hand. "This does not... happen with... school books I suspect‽"

I confirmed his suspicion. He nodded and then, more to himself than me, mumbled "Wrong environment." He breathed in sharply and lifted his voice "But this is... very promising."

Startled from his sudden exclamation I looked down onto my feet, then turned my eyes towards the book, gave the fire a brief glimpse and lastly back at the professor who was apparently now gripped my a new sense of inspiration and idea. He quickly strode over to the bookcase with the now empty space and inspected it thoroughly. "This won't do. No." he muttered.

While he produced a small folding desk from a small cupboard previously unnoticed by me, I was now in an utter state of confusion.

Fortunately the professor started to explain, during which he took books from the shelf, some of which he laid onto the desk while just changing the position of others.

"It is not uncommon for developing minds to be both overwhelmed and/or underutilized during the phase of growing up. On one hand you got purely psychological pressure created by the environment and challenges you face, while they are nothing to be concerned about. While on the other you might get treated like you are stupid and not to be taken seriously. Which you should."

I was quite flattered to hear this from such an accomplished scientist. And after being told that he respected me, I did not dare betray his expectations and tried my best to seem mature, therefore interrupting him was out of the question.

"This focus on learning and memorizing without the need to think logically and outside the box leads to the degradation of the most important part of the brain. Imagination and fantasy. I am not saying that the sciences of the world are useless. But the mind is not a place of pure logic.

And the mind of a child needs to consume more than just the most rudimentary of intellectual nourishment. This can lead to problems occurring later in life with the mental illness taking various ways to manifest itself."

He now finished with the sorting of books and tucked the desk away. "I... believe it is now time to... call your parents in. I have a proposition to make."

The anticipation was visible on my parents faces as the professor let them back into the room and positioned himself back behind his desk.

I unwillingly put the book away and anxiously awaited the see the reaction of my parents to what mister Clemmons had told me.

As he put forth his thesis that the right literature would as he put it "cure" me, my parents heads sank. I halfway expected that reaction out of them, we simply had not enough money to afford books, much less the literature he was suggesting.

Longingly my gaze shifted over to the hundreds of books compiled in this room.

How much knowledge, how much ideas were gathered here?

I sought them, longed for text from the old past. Broadening my view, sharpening my mind.

Wishing to read as much as possible, I wanted to learn it all.


	4. Chapter 4

Six weeks later:

As soon as school was over I hurried over to the bus station opposite from the one I needed to get home. The ride itself wasn't very exiting by itself, I however felt a rush of anticipation and satisfaction that was previously unknown to me. Everything was coming together and made sense.

The walls surrounding my mind started to crumble and gave way to a bright new view.

And as the bus was approaching it's destination I started to feel like I was at home.

The air was clearer out here, not polluted by the traffic and factories of the city.

The sun reflected from the lake and illuminated the expansive premises of the Sanitarium.

A few of the patients were relaxing in the gardens and letting the sun warm them.

The receptionist nodded to me as I made my way through the entrance hall, detouring through the cafeteria to pick up a warm mug of cocoa and a cheese sandwich.

With those in my hands I took the grand staircase up to the first floor.

I had to hold the sandwich in between my teeth to open the big doors, which almost fell down as I entered. The professor looked up as I had to jerk my hand to catch my snack before it fell to the ground.

The professor smiled faintly as I stumbled towards my armchair, making sure I was as comfortable as possible before taking a sip of my cocoa and having my lunch.

The professor assigned me one of the bookshelves to take books from.

A majority of the of them covered mythology and ancient lore but also scientific works and sometimes even papers about new discoveries in the field of physics.

I personally enjoyed and appreciated philosophical works the most.

He meticulously made sure that all the books on that shelf were in the right order and appropriate for me. Sometimes he would ask if I had a certain interest in some topics, after which he would sort. Though most of the time he would sit at his desk and work on documents or walk around in the facility and interact with patients.

During my time I also came to know some of the other doctors working under Clemmons.

My favourite was Doktor Corvus, a kind man with an ordinary face were it not for his quite long nose.

He would always speak in some European accent which I can only describe as being somewhat Germanic sounding.

Occasionally we would stroll together through some of the parts of the complex. Walking up and down, outside and visit the different buildings. We walked wherever Corvus needed to do some work, talk to a patient or employee or just take a break.

On one of our trips in the northern building, the living quarters for the patients, where the windows are reinforced, we encountered a large, looming figure in a doctors coat. His jaw seemed to be lower than normal and his eyes looked like they were retreating into his skull.

As he approached us I could not help but try to hide behind Corvus in hopes of being ignored. Something about his walk suggested that one of his legs was limp and needed to be dragged behind him, deeply disturbed me.

Corvus however put on his signature smile and patted me on the shoulder, before greeting the giant.

"Good afternoon Frank. Say, how is the patient in room 42 doing?"

As Frank answered I was taken aback by his throaty voice and apparent struggle to get the words, he wanted to say, out of his mouth, he sounded ill.

"Well, the ear infection has been taken care of. But his immune system is still weak." He said before looking down on a clip board and adding: "You might want to see him yourself. I am not so good at calming people." I was certainly not surprised at that remark.

Corvus sighed deeply "I will look into it. And you take care of yourself or you will burnout as well."

Frank was visibly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was going and shifted his attention over to me. "Doctor Frank Walker, pleased to meet you." He said rather stiffly.


	5. Chapter 5

We shook hands and he made his departure.

"Why have I never seen him before?" I asked the remaining Doktor.

"He is the supervising physician for the northern complex. And he remains here for most of his work. I don't think I have ever seen him outside except for senior staff meetings."

I reminisced about the look on Walkers face and how he walked towards us.

"What kind of a person is he?" I asked out of curiosity.

"He is actually quite a nice person if you get to know him. Cares deeply for his patients and the other staff. He just has trouble to introduce himself to others. Which is not helped by his... physical appearance."

"I can attest to that much" I said. And we grinned at each other.

At this moment an ear shattering siren filled the corridor. I held my ears as to dampen the shrill noise and looked in confusion as for it's origin.

Corvus's face hardened and his eyes narrowed.

"This does not bode well."

"What is it?" I shouted, so he could hear me "Is it the fire alarm?".

"No, listen to me. You need to..." He frantically looked around, the corridor was still empty.

He pulled out a list and quickly studied it. "Well, Frank needs to deal with this one. I can't let you alone in here. Follow me, we'll get back to the Professors office."

We quickly made our way to the exit, which I noticed were now guarded by large personnel with clubs. As they saw us approaching, one of them opened his mouth to say something but Corvus cut him off: "I am going to bring this young one, here back to safety. After that I'll come back for a status update." During the last words he grabbed me by the arm and stormed through the exit.

I was stunned, I have never seen Corvus so assertive before, he seemed like he was honestly worrying about something. But if it was not a fire alarm, what else would be so dangerous here.

Sure, it was still a Sanitarium but the worst thing I saw someone do was accidentally knock over a glass of water.

We arrived at the main building and Corvus handed me over to a nurse that escorted me back to the office, where I promptly ran to the big window behind the professors desk and tried to angle my view so I could see the building we just exited. But the only interesting thing I saw was Corvus who

just now arrived back at the entrance and disappeared through it.

After a few minutes during which nothing happened, I sat down down on my armchair and picked up a book and read until the sun started to set.

The professor was usually back at this point to see me out.

The room was illuminated by the red light of the sun and it's reflection from the lake. Which was not as calm as usual. Ripples in the water started to show even though there was not the slightest breeze.

What should I do now? I wanted to wait for someone but I wasn't even sure that the anyone would come, therefore I packed my bag and opened the doors into the hallway. No one to see here either.

The whole facility was dead silent, no patients in the entrance hall, not even the usual receptionist was at her post.

I could hear my own footsteps as I walked through towards the doors, though their echo seemed to have a slightly longer delay than I was used to. Discarded piles of pillow, playing cards and books laid on the floor and at various tables. At least the silence was pleasant to some degree.

I stepped out, basking in the fresh air and total silence. Not knowing what else to do I meandered over to the bus stop. Constantly holding an eye open for someone, or at least some kind of movement behind a window to signal that anyone was present. Even though it was ultimately fruitless, I hoped that the buses would not have been affected by whatever happened here.

And I was proven right in my assumption. I needed to wait but five minutes until I heard the characteristic humming of a running motor coming down the street.

The headlights illuminated the evening scene, casting off shadows into the forest on the opposite side of the street. With a large screech the bus halted, opened it's doors and I entered.

After I showed the driver my ticket, I took a seat at the very back of the bus. I was the only passenger at the time. Which wasn't unusual given the time.

After a few minutes I noticed rain drops collecting on the windows. The sky had changed from the evening red to a dark grey. A lightning impacted somewhere in the woods next to the road, followed by a roaring thunder that would make even the hardest man flinch.

The rain started to collect on the street. I could hear the water splashing as the bus drove on.

The whole situation started to get unpleasant. I tried to make eye contact with the driver to see if he was in any way unnerved but could not make him out from my position.

Lightning crashed into the woods again, this time directly next to us. I watched in horror as the tree was engulfed in flames. A branch crashed down, still on fire, and ignited the leafs on the ground.

I wanted to see what would happen next, but we passed too fast to observe the fire.

The speakers in the bus cracked and I heard the voice of the driver: "I'm going to speed up now. This is developing into a storm. In the city we have buildings to cover us from the wind but out here we could be blown off the road at any time. Hold onto something just in case."

We accelerated as I gripped the seat in front of me. With our new speed I could feel every little bump in the road and every little stick of wood on it. Which did not help to assure me.

We went past most of the stations on our way without halting. Not that there were any potential passengers waiting there to anyway.

My tension was eventually relieved after we passed the first two tall buildings and the howling wind died down. No longer were raindrops smashing against the windows as if to break them.

Though I was not thrilled to see my station approach, I had to go out there and face that weather without my rain coat. I left it at home since the weather report predicted nothing more than a warm summer breeze for at least one whole week.

When the doors opened to let me out, I thanked the driver and wished him a good evening. Somehow I managed to cross the street without being blown away by the wind that, even though dampened by the city, still grew in intensity.

With a sigh of relief I closed the doors of my home behind me. Exhausted, not from physical labour, but from fear. My parents' bedroom door was closed suggesting that they were already asleep. Seemingly oblivious to the still raging storm.

I stumbled over to the fridge and grabbed a bite to eat before I fell fully clothed on my bed.

The greenish ceiling in my room was the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes and sank into sleep. The storm still raging on outside my windows.


	6. Chapter 6

I was alone. A gust of wind whirled up dirt and ash. My eyes watered.

A vast wasteland stretched out before me. As the wind died down, the landscape became clear to me. Dead trees stood stoic like old relics of a time long past. The sky was as clear as it ever could be and the moon looked down on the wastes like the eye of a watcher.

How did I get here? In the far distance I could make out some high towers or buildings. Too far to reasonably reach just by walking.

I turned around and jerked back. I turned out that I was standing right before a huge gate. Far bigger

than I imagined would be necessary.

Connected to the gate were walls as high as I could see made of a black stone. If they were made up of single stones, they sure did not look like it.

The touch of my hand revealed the surface to be completely smooth, without any cracks or holes.

The gate itself seemed to be made of solid iron, kept in perfect condition and recently oiled.

Someone or something had to care for this absurd structure. Though the feat of repairing something this big would be infeasible, even with the help of machines.

The cry of a raven broke the absolute silence. The bird sat on one of the tree corpses very close to me. As it noticed my attention it eyed me with his left eye then his right and then his left again.

As his wings spread and he lifted himself into the sky I wondered how he survived out here.

Surely there had to be more alive here and water had to exist as well. I quickly looked up into the sky to determine where the raven had flown but was surprised to ascertain that he was circling above my head.

He must have noticed my gaze again because he made of into the forest of dead trees, away from the large walls. Something drew me after him, maybe it was curiosity, maybe I hoped to find water or maybe something else pulled me after him.

I ran for what must have been an eternity. Through the forest, jumping over stones and almost falling into a large crater in the ground. Focused onto the raven I did not notice where I was going. We might have changed direction a few times but I couldn't tell.

Then suddenly, he was gone. When did he disappear, I can't remember. He might have not existed to begin with. Though a single black feather descendent from the sky. I held out my left hand where it landed softly. I intended to carefully stow it away in and inner pocket of my jacket. But as I gripped it a sharp pain ran through one of my fingers. In shock I let the feather fall to the ground and inspected my finger. It bled though the cut did not seem to be deep. Putting my finger in my mouth

I knelt down to inspect what the raven must have left behind. On first inspection it definitely looked like a normal feather but as I picked it up again I noticed that it did not feel like one.

It was neither smooth nor could I bend it. The edges were sharp and the tip could probably pierce wood without much force. I struggled to determine the material it was made of. I was sure it was not any metal I ever saw. If I had to describe it, I would say it was like the smoothest black obsidian you could imagine. It was without a doubt one of the most peculiar objects I ever came across in my life. There was no way I could leave something like this behind. Therefore I took out my handkerchief and wrapped the feather in it. I made sure, as I finally stored it in my pocket, that I would not accidentally cut myself in the chest while moving.

Now that the raven was gone, where should I go?

The skyline that I observed earlier sure did not get any closer and the black walls and the gate completely disappeared from my view. Even though I was sure that was impossible given their height. I was still surrounded by dead trees with no visible path or sign of life.

Then I heard it again. The caw of a raven. Was it the same one? I could not tell. But it seemed to come from behind a small hill. With nothing better to go on I climbed the, not very steep, slope.

The caws stopped shortly before I reached the top however another sound took it's place.

The sound of flowing water. And sure enough, a small stream of water, giving birth to green, living vegetation on both sides. Right in the middle of the dusty and dry waste.

I stumbled down this side of the hill towards the stream. I could not tell where it came from. The raven had disappeared. I approached the water, falling on my knees to drink but stopped short. How did I know that this was safe to drink?

The world had been turned upside down and I was in a wasteland. Well, unless a supermarket suddenly came out of nowhere, I did not have much of a choice, did I?

As I started to drink I noticed how thirsty I actually was. I took in the water like the essence of life.

Then I heard a crack somewhere. I stopped and listened for a caw. Instead someone behind me said:

"Do not be alarmed. I am not here to do you any harm. Quite the opposite really. You may turn around." And so I did.

It was an old man, possibly in his fifties. Nevertheless, his physical condition was quite impressive.

He had painted his face with black and white colours, with striped and dots and wore a heliotrope-pendant around his neck. His clothing was obviously self-made and improvised. But his presence alone made me feel better, like a breath of fresh air. "May I sit down?" he asked. I quickly gave him my permission which made me feel somewhat weird.

"Thank you. I am the... you may say keeper of this part of the land. I preserve what you can see. Unfortunately that is all I can do here." He sat down, putting a rudimentary leather bag next to him.

"Listen to the water. Can you feel how much strength it has?"

Indeed, behind the splashing there seemed to be something more. Almost like a whisper and a roar at the same time, mixing in the back of the mind. It was not anything you could hear with your ears, more like a memory that you experienced while it was happening.


	7. Chapter 7

I told him that I was quite sure I knew what he meant and that I heard something that could be described as a voice in the chaos. This seemed to satisfy him greatly.

"No need to be afraid. What you hear is the voice of this realm. You are a stranger so you can't understand it. But take my word, if you keep listening you will someday."

I listened again. I might have imagined it but I felt like the whisper and the roar became clearer than the first time. Though as I told the "keeper" about exactly what I heard, he almost floundered.

"If this is how it is then you need to take this now." He took of his pendant and quickly put it in my hand. "Don't lose it."

And with these words he stood up and stretched his arm out before him.

The sound of something falling with great speed filled the air and one second later the raven landed of his arm. One caw later and both of them were gone.


End file.
